Hell And Alcohol
by UNrequitedAmbitions
Summary: “I've had this awful feeling lately,wherever I go,no matter what I do,it's always in the pit of my stomach.I don't know what it is,” he looked at me and his grey eyes had turned to swimming pools of metal."But it's not good.For any of us." Style Stan POV
1. Something On The Horizon

**A/N:** Okay, first try at a SP story, so give me some slack :) I have a really good idea for what I want to do with this, so it'd be great if you guys could give me some advice, anything will do.

I know this chapter is on the short side, but it's kind of like an introductory, to show you the mood of the story, so the others will be longer.

Enjoy :)

Oh, and this is all in Stan's POV

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It was raining. I never could stand the rain. It made the ground turn to mush and flushed every worm from the ground, forcing them to lie like thick, sticky snakes across every stretch of pavement. It was quite unfortunate for me, therefore, that Kenny loved the rain. He could dance around in it for hours like some child, his face turned heavenward, eyes tightly shut while his mouth hung ajar, trying to drink up the raging storm. It was magnificent to watch, really. His bright clothes stood out like a diamond among coal against the dull shades of gray that covered a stormy day. His laughter mingled in a strange, yet impossibly natural harmony with the splattering rain and crackling thunder. He looked so utterly poetic that it made me wish I knew how to write beautiful sonnets, just to convey the sheer majesty of these rare moments in time. So, instead of ruining his perfect landscape of ineffable aesthetics, I found myself content with watching from my porch stoop.

"You ready to go in?" He asked as he ran up to the porch, his blond hair soaking wet and dripping spiraling rain drops down his angled cheek bones. I nodded and stood up, telling him to wait for me to come back with a towel. My mom would freak if he tried to come into the house so drenched.

He dried his hair off and removed his jacket and shirt so he could ring them out. I sat down on the decrepit porch swing to wait and he joined me a few minutes later, making it creak in disapproval. It was sure to give way and send us crashing to the floor one of these days. I glanced over at his shirtless frame, his entire body emitting an intense glow that only a nostalgic episode, such as running up and down the street in the rain, can extract from you.

"You're still a fuckin' kid in there, aren't you?" I shoved his shoulder roughly, making the swing sway slowly and groan like a dying frog. He replied with his usual crooked smile. Brevity of silence passed between us, neither having anything important to say. That's the way it always seemed with Kenny- if you didn't have anything truly relevant to talk about then there was no point in opening your mouth.

I stared straight ahead for a while, letting my thoughts wander to a particular stretch of road where Kyle and I had fallen down and scrapped our knees pretty bad on our first attempts at riding bikes sans training wheels. I remember because they were expensive, neither of our parents could afford them, so we saved up our own money. We had fought over who should get the red one at the store, until Kyle decided it'd be a sweet idea to get matching ones. He was always doing things like that, settling our stupid disputes with his never failing solutions.

I was brought out of my own episode of nostalgia as Kenny shifted, making the porch swing move again. I glanced at him to find him looking far into the distance, much as I had been doing. His face held many distinct lines of worry, though. I could trace it easily in the hard crease between his eyebrows and the deep impression in his slight, unconscious, frown.

"What's wrong, dude." I nearly whispered, the words slipped so quickly from my mouth.

It must have been sufficient enough to break his line of thought, though, for he slowly turned to me.

"I just love the rain," he replied after a short pause. After seeing the disbelief in my face he smiled, but it held a distinct, melancholy air to it. "Always have."

"I know you love the rain. Hell, you drag me outside every time they even mention it on the weather," I replied slightly louder this time. "And you've never acted like this because of it." He was usually much giddier and slightly more talkative.  
He sighed loudly and placed his head in his hands. He rested like that for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before shifting his head to look into my eyes.

"Do you ever feel rushed?"

"Rushed?" I repeated incredulously. "Yeah. I mean, sometimes I sleep past my alarm and-"

He shook his head, effectively silencing me.

"Not that kind of rushed. A more desperate kind." He looked away from me to stare out at the road again. "A kind that keeps you up all night, wondering what's trying to speed your life up. A kind that makes you glance over your shoulder constantly, always second guessing if this is how you should really be spending your precious time."

"Can't say I have, man." I shook my head as Kenny closed his eyes again.

"I didn't think so."

"What do you mean, Ken? What's going on?" I asked, growing uncomfortable from his increasingly somber aura.

"Let's go inside," he suggested suddenly as he stood up. "It's cold out here."

"No way!" I stood quickly and blocked his path to the door. "Tell me what's wrong."

He looked away, letting his gaze wander to the abandoned street again. "Okay," he nearly whispered. "But not here, let's go inside."

I nodded and stepped aside to follow him in.

"Hello Kenny!" My mother called, leaning backward from her place at the kitchen sink so she could see us. "Thanks for being a dear and drying off on the porch!"

"No problem Mrs. Marsh." Kenny flashed a charming smile, one that only I could detect the pain in.

"So, what are you boys up to today?" She inquired as she walked up to us, throwing her dish towel casually over her shoulder. Only my mother could make cleaning look casual.

"We were just going to go up to my room to play some video games." I replied, shifting anxiously.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste until a crack of thunder reminded her of the weather outside. "Well, I guess it's okay if you play for a while today, since it's storming."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay mom."

"I'll have lunch ready in a bit," she started as we made our way up the stairs. "I'll call you down when it's done."

"Kay, thanks!" Kenny called before we stepped into my room and closed the door.

Kenny crossed my room and sat down on the edge of my bed, throwing his wet outfit into my clothes hamper.

"Can I borrow a shirt?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest to ward off the cold.

"Yeah, sure." I sifted through my top drawer and pulled out a plain blue shirt. I tossed it to him and took the spot on my bed to his right.

He pulled it over his head and ran a hand through his dirty blond hair, staring distractedly at the carpeted floor. I knew he was looking for the right thing to say so I sat quietly, not wanting to push him. It took a few minutes, but he finally broke the silence.

"You know how I die all the time, right?"

"Yeah dude. You've done it since we were kids." I replied.

"Well lately it's been... different." He continued, a stygian look taking over his features.

"Different? How?" I asked, eyebrow arching in confusion.

He didn't say anything, simply bent down to roll up his left pant leg. Underneath there was a set of horrible scars, spider webbing all down his shin. I breathed in sharply as he winced.

"What the hell, man?"

"You remember the last time I died?" He inquired.

I nodded, my eyes never leaving his leg. "You got caught in that electric fence."

"My leg got caught in that electric fence. I tore it up pretty bad trying to get out."

"But," I glanced desperately up at him. "You don't usually come back with scars, do you?" My voice was taking on a tone of alarm as something awful began to creep around the edges of my consciousness.

"No. I don't."

"What does this mean?" We stared at each other for a long time. He didn't have any plausible answer to give me. Or he didn't want to relay the only plausible one.

"I don't know. But it can't be good." He placed his head in his hands before continuing. "I've been having this awful feeling lately, wherever I go, and no matter what I do, it's always in the pit of my stomach. I don't know what it is," he looked at me and his grey eyes had turned to liquid, swimming like pools of metal. "But it's not good. For any of us."

"You mean-?"

"Yes, all four of us." He emphasized, giving me a cold look as his eyes hardened from soft liquid to steel.

"There isn't 'the four of us' anymore, Ken." I stated my voice thick with a barely suppressed anger.

"It's always been the four of us," he declared, looking away from me. "Nothing you can do will change that."

"I haven't done anything to change it," I scoffed. "Kyle has."

Kenny swallowed hard and clenched his jaw. "It doesn't do any good for you two to keep blaming each other. Neither of you did anything wrong."

"Try telling him that." I snapped, crossing my arms defiantly over my chest.  
He stood up then and grabbed his damp clothes out of my hamper.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving. If all you're going to do is talk bad about Kyle again then I'm bailing." He turned to look at me again, jaw set in a hard line.

Our eyes locked in a silent starring match until I blinked, looked away, and sighed.

"Okay, I won't talk about it," I paused and I know my face fell into a pitiful look of desperation. "Just sit down, man."

He jerked his head stiffly, but his jaw softened slightly. I stood up and gripped his shoulders tightly.

"You can't come here, drop something like that on me, and leave," he looked me straight in the eyes and his steel gray softened and liquefied again. "You're my best friend, dude. I don't want to lose you."

A small smile tugged lightly at the corners of his mouth and I pulled him in for a quick one armed hug. He followed me back to the bed then and sat down. We didn't speak to each other the rest of the night, but we didn't have to. That was one of the good things about being best friends with Kenny. The only bad thing was that he wasn't Kyle.

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It'd be really great if you'd review, especially if you liked it cause then I'll most likely get the next chap out quicker! Thanks


	2. Why This Happened

**A/N: **Alright, chapter two :) Thanks _so _much to everyone that reviewed!! Keep 'em coming and you'll get fast updates like this :)

Enjoy!

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The next morning I woke up feeling sick. Not like a head cold or something easily distinguishable, this felt like something outside of my body. It's hard to describe, but I would relate it to the feeling of a giant using you as his personal squeeze toy. My lungs and heart felt so compressed that I almost had my first asthma attack in four years.

I had called Kenny after I regained control over my breathing, intent on telling him about it, but I somehow got sidetracked. He sounded really odd, like he was uneasy about something. I'm pretty sure he didn't hear half of the little that we did talk about, and I wondered if it was because of what he'd told me yesterday, but I decided not to bring it up. I had more pressing issues to worry about today anyways.

My parents and Kyle's parents had always been really close. Our dads have even been best friends since high school. So, about once every month, they made it routine to gather at one of our houses to talk and eat dinner. Now, I'd been trying to get out of these for nearly a year, since Kyle and I stopped talking, but my mom insisted that I attended every one. She called it a 'family bonding time' but I knew that was bullshit since Shelly got to skip them all the time when she was my age. I knew her real reason for making me stick around was because she was upset about Kyle and me not being friends anymore. I think she was hoping that if she forced us together we could work it out. I could only assume that Sheila was in on it too, since Kyle never got to miss one either.

So, at six that night, I found myself sitting between my parents and across from Kyle at our dining room table, eating a very awkward dinner.

"Stanley," my mother started, trying to break the thick blanket of silence that had encompassed us. "You should tell everyone that story you told us the other day. Remember, about your friend Craig at football practice?"

"Yeah, why don't you tell us, Stanley?" Kyle mimicked, as my mother began telling Sheila and Gerald the story for me.

"Fuck off, asshole." I muttered, trying to keep my voice low. I caught a flash of something flicker through his eyes at my words, but it died too quickly for me to analyze.

His face molded into his new favorite expression whenever conversing with me; a cold sneer that effectively masked any authentic feelings. "Whatever." He rolled his eyes dismissively at me as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"Are you boys finished eating?" My mother asked as she stood up to clear the table. We both nodded silently and she picked up our plates. "Why don't you two go up to Stan's room while we talk for a while?" She suggested as she made her way to the kitchen.

I glared at her back, aggravated that none of our parents would accept the fact that we couldn't stand each other anymore. Nevertheless, I followed my mother's suggestion and pushed myself angrily away from the table. I didn't spare a glance behind me to see if Kyle was following, he didn't have to come. As I neared my bedroom door I heard a second pair of footsteps behind me though, signaling that he had decided to trail after me. I guess even hanging out with one of your least favorite people is more pleasant than listening to your parents reminisce over their glory days.

I closed my eyes briefly before opening my door and took a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm and not engage in another of my 'famous fist fights' with Kyle. At school, for a while after we had stopped talking, we gained a pretty bad rep for beating the shit out of each other in the halls. Sometimes even during class. The whole week after our initial fight, we had been okay. We probably should have gotten it out of our system then, because waiting only served to make our tension ebb and expand like a helium balloon. And when that balloon finally busted, it took a long time to get it all out of our systems. There was a time when our UFC emulations would take place up to four days a week and, at the very pinnacle of our fights, I was engaging in more wrestling on the floor then I was in a desk. It grew to a point where my face was permanently caked over with crusted, rusty red blood that wouldn't come off, no matter how many times I scrubbed my face raw. The thick, coppery smell of it was everywhere I went and it eventually imprinted itself completely into my senses. To this day, if I even see blood on TV, I can smell his.

I turned the knob slowly and stepped into my room. Kyle walked in right behind me, throwing himself down on my bed, just like he used to. I sneered in annoyance as I took a seat on the small black chair under my window. We were quiet for a long time until Kyle broke it, as usual.

"So how are you and the BFF?" He scoffed distastefully at the word in association with Kenny as he leaned casually against my headboard.

"Fine." I answered shortly, after a pause. "And yours?"

"Cartman's great." He replied, but he must have forgotten sometime over the past year that I can read him easier than large print for an old person. There was a slight enough hesitation in his cheery voice to tell me that Cartman has most likely been royally pissing him off.

Eric Cartman had changed over the years, of course. It really wasn't quite accurate to call him a fatass anymore. Not since his mom made him join the basketball team in sixth grade. It must have made something inside his brain finally snap a connection to the fact that he was morbidly overweight, because ever since he's been a complete health nut. Now he plays just about every sport the school has to offer, even men's tennis. So, he's not really fat anymore. At all. Mostly just an insane mass of muscle. You'd think becoming all buff would make him even more annoying and vindictive, but he actually pretty much keeps to himself. Except when it comes to Kyle. There was always some sort of strange connection between those two. No matter how much they yelled and argued they still wanted to be around each other. So it made absolute sense to me that Cartman would become my replacement. Those two just can't function quite right without having the other around to piss off. They're co-dependant creatures. Parasites. They feed off of the others' misery and turn it into their fuel to get through the day.

"We went to that basketball game in Denver last weekend." Kyle continued casually, smiling distantly at me. I swear he thought this was all some kind of game. Like I was a pawn for him to experiment with. Let's see how far over the edge you can push one person before they completely snap. He always did have an insane aptitude for that psychoanalysis shit.

"Yeah? Cool." I replied off-handedly as I picked up my school books off the floor, figuring I could at least try and occupy myself. It'd make the time go faster and maybe he'd catch the hint that I wasn't in the mood for his smartass comments tonight.

"We were thinking about going to Mexico for Spring break this year." Kyle spoke again. I could practically feel his eyes boring into the side of my face, anticipating my reaction.

I froze for just a second, stopping in the middle of opening my calculus book. Kyle and I had always talked about going to Mexico during our senior year, for spring break.

"Awesome, dude." I finally spoke, my voice shaking only slightly. I was getting too damn good at keeping up a façade.

Kyle sighed and slumped on the bed. "Yeah, I know…" He replied quietly as he gazed blankly up at my ceiling.

The rest of our night continued in the same manner. Kyle would try and say something to get on my nerves, and I'd brush it off without another word. If I didn't know better, I'd say that it started to piss him off after the seventh or eighth attempt. It wasn't until the night was coming to a close that he finally struck the nerve he'd been searching for.

Let me make this very clear right now, just in case someone gets the wrong idea. I am in no way, and nor have I been for the past eight years, pining over Wendy Testaburger. Everyone always seems to jump to this conclusion, and I can't, for the life of me, figure out why. Maybe because I was so upset when she broke up with me in what… fourth grade? Shit, I was just a kid, I barely even remember it. Regardless, pretty much everyone at school, even my own family, seems to think I harbor some sort of unrequited love for her. This is what started my initial argument with Kyle last year. He and Wendy had grown close over the years, probably because of their mutual love of knowledge. I had asked him one night, as a fucking joke, if he was banging her at all their nightly study sessions. He flipped out on me and thought I was like, threatening him or some shit. Told me I was a fucking pussy for 'saving myself for her' when she had obviously moved on. I told him to get the fuck out of my house if he really didn't know me that well, and he did. From then on it was just a rapid accumulation of other small incidents that spiraled horribly out of anyone's control. I guess when you're as close with someone as we were, you don't just fight. You fucking brawl.

Anyway, it was nearing nine and I knew Kyle and his family would be leaving soon, since they never stayed past ten. I was putting my homework into my school bag, my back turned to my bed when he said it.

"Dude, homework. That reminds me," I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I still have to stop by Wendy's tonight to fuck her."

I froze and dropped the last of my books haphazardly on the ground. "You fuckin' shit." I whispered dangerously, slowly turning to glare at his overly elated expression.

"Oh, what's the matter? You gunna cry about it, pussy?" He sat up defensively on the bed, never losing that annoying smirk.

I tried to ignore it. I really _really _tried. You can't step over the fact that your friends know what trips your trigger better than anyone though, and Kyle had just fired me off like a fuckin' cannon.

It only took me two steps to make it from one side of my room to the other. I don't even think he saw me coming, judging by the shocked expression on his face. I grabbed him roughly by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the closest wall, his feet barely touching the ground. The sudden rush of adrenaline that boosted my strength made my entire body numb, so I barely felt his feet kicking harshly against my shins. The pain of his sharp nails scratching against my arms didn't register in my brain either, as I snarled threateningly in his face.

"Stan, calm the fuck down!" He pleaded, eyes darting hopelessly to my bedroom door, hoping someone heard and was coming up to help him.

"_Kyle,_" I growled, inching my face closer to his. His eyes flickered back to me, but I didn't see fear in them this time. I don't know what this was, but it was much more intense. "Why can't you just _back the fuck off_?" I pressed my hand harder into his throat, hoping it would return the fear to his eyes. It only increased this horrifyingly intense look, and I nearly backed off, until he spoke again.

"Because," his voice was quiet, breathe ghosting hotly over my face. "This is _so_ much more fun." A feeling of uncontrollable frustration filled me, making me want to scream, or throw something or tear my hair out of my head. He wanted to make my life miserable. That was all. I slowly uncurled my fingers from his shirt and lowered him back to the ground, but didn't move out of his personal space.

"Please," I whispered desperately, trying to control the shaking in my voice. "Please, just… let me be."

He didn't say anything, just stood there and starred up at me with his sharp, emerald eyes. At least that strange look was gone. He brought to my attention then just how close we were as he brought up a hand to rub his neck and it pressed against my chest. I hesitated for a second, giving him one last pleading look before stepping back.

"Kyle, bubbe, are you ready to go?" His mother's voice drifted up the stairs, breaking the strange intensity that had swelled between us. He looked away from me, to the door, and then back to me, a sad expression crossing his features before he left. I sighed and collapsed onto my bed once he was gone, feeling completely drained. I felt that same feeling of compression from this morning ease itself onto me again as I laid in bed, trying to control my breathing. I was starting to think Kenny was right. Maybe something was happening.

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Don't forget to review, thanks!


	3. We're All Crashing

**A/N: **Kay, chapter two!! The end of this chapter is where the plot really begins to take off, so it will really get moving in the next few chapters. :)

Don't forget to review, it really motivates me to get out my chapters faster!! Oh, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and helped me out, you guys are the greatest!

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The next day at school, I was so jittery I could barely sit still. All through the first half of the day I fidgeted like a squirrel in my seat, causing my teachers to ask several times if I needed to be excused to use the bathroom. I couldn't keep any part of my body still for more than five seconds. Constantly tapping my fingers, squirming in my seat, and twitching like freakin' Tweak if anyone spoke to me.

"Dude, what's up with you today? Seriously." Craig asked during lunch, after I managed to knock his milk over for the third time.

Craig, Token and Kenny surrounded me at our round table. I had been good friends with Craig and Token for a few years, since we were all on the football team together. They had also stuck with me through Kyle and mine's falling out. Clyde, who had actually been Craig's best friend up until last year, had decided to side with Kyle. I'm not sure that them taking opposite stands on our situation had anything to do with their separation, but they had stopped talking around the same time as Kyle and I. Craig didn't like to talk too much about his own life, so I never really got the full story anyways. He'd always just say Clyde was a douche if anyone brought it up.

"I don't know!" I nearly yelled out in frustration at the anxious feeling in my stomach. "I feel like I'm losing my fuckin' mind."

"You're acting like it, too." Craig complained in his nasally voice as he mopped up the last of his milk with a napkin.

I shot him a glare and took a deep breathe, trying to calm myself down. My stomach responded by giving a particularly painful twist.

"Uhhhh." I groaned, clutching my sides as I doubled over the table. My eyes flashed momentarily to Kenny, who was eating his lunch slowly, making it look more like a habit of nature than a necessity. He was just as far away from the world as he had been the past few days. He didn't seem concerned in the least about my strange bout of anxiety, or he just hadn't noticed.

"Why don't you just go to the nurse?" Token suggested, watching me warily. He was acting like I was going to puke all over him. Though, knowing my shady history concerning barfing on people, I didn't blame him.

"Yeah, maybe." I groaned, feeling my stomach clench abnormally again as I fidgeted uncomfortably on my bench.

My eyes wandered over to Kyle's table as Token started helping Craig clean up his milk. Kyle was sitting a few tables down from us with Cartman, Clyde and a few other guys I didn't look at long enough to identify. Besides, it was always Kyle, Cartman and Clyde now- anyone else around them didn't matter.

Watching Kyle converse so naturally with Eric, who had always been nothing short of rude to him, was aggravating. He was being so uncharacteristically nice, too- he actually got up and threw Kyle's tray away for him when he was finished eating. I felt my stomach give another lurch as Kyle smiled after him, like they had always been best friends, instead of life long enemies. The feeling in my stomach sizzled and burned as Clyde caught Kyle's attention, and engaged him in an animated conversation that resulted in them both laughing hysterically.

"Dude, DUDE!" I was jolted back to my own table by Craig, who was waving a spork in front of my face.

"What, man?" I asked, slumping down into my seat and crossing my arms across my stomach, trying my hardest to sit still.

"I just asked how yesterday night went. You know, with Kyle coming over and all." He shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. I was really trying to just forget about what had happened last night. "Well…" I bit my lip and looked back up at them, seriously considering lying. Then again, if I wanted to actually keep these friends I might as well let it all out. "We kinda got into a fight."

"Oh jeez." Token rolled his eyes.

"What?! It wasn't my fault." I stated matter-of-factly.

"It's never your fault." Craig pointed out as he snatched up my milk and took a drink.

"Just promise me you guys aren't going to start that shit up again." Token requested, looking at me imploringly.

"Jesus guys, calm down," I clenched my fists and looked away from them. "It wasn't like that. He just pissed me off and I overreacted a little."

"Just keep yourself in check, Stan," Token pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he had learned from me. "None of us want a repeat of the end of last year."

"Yeah." Craig agreed, nodding his head enthusiastically.

"Don't worry," I reassured, tapping my fingers on the table. "I won't let anything stupid like that happen again. My face was fucked up for weeks!"

Craig and Token laughed, nodding in agreement. They were probably remembering the time they both had to nearly carry me home after Kyle and I fought after school. They even fixed my face up for me.

The sudden laughter seemed to bring Kenny back to life as he turned his blank stare from his sandwich, to us.

"What's so funny?" He asked, though he didn't sound truly interested.

"Nothing, man." Token replied, clapping him on the back. "You know, you've been acting pretty off today too. What's up?"

"Me?" Kenny asked, pointing to himself. Token nodded. "I'm just tired. My dad came home drunk last night and I had to take care of him. Didn't get to bed till like three." He yawned for emphasis and Craig and Token looked to me, for verification. I shrugged, telling them I had no idea.

The bell rang then and we all stood up, scraping out chairs against the linoleum floor. Craig and I said good bye to Kenny and Token as we parted ways down the hall and headed to painting together.

There was something about painting that I really liked. I'd never tell Craig this, or any of my three friends for that matter, but it had always been easier for me to transfer feelings through pastels or watercolors than words. Of course Craig thought I was taking it to fill an extra credit, like him, I never happened to mention that I had signed up for it specifically. There was no reason for him to know- he'd just go off calling me a fag. Though I should be used to hearing shit like that since I had been friends with Cartman for nearly all my life, there was something about it that really pissed me off.

I walked to the large storage cabinet in the back of the art room to get out the paints while Craig got brushes and set up our easels. He was an exceptionally bad artist. The guy could barely draw a circle without it turning into some mutated, fucked up shape that wasn't even real. Therefore, when he smoothed out his latest work on his easel, I actually cringed. I guess I should have been used to his inept work by now, but this one was unusually appalling. No real shapes or forms were really distinguishable on it, though there was a blob in the center made of that nasty brown you get when you mix every color together. A few swirls of greenish yellow bordered it, making it look like a piece of shit in a toilet.

"Dude, what the fuck is that?" I asked, making an unintentionally disgusted face at his work.

"It's my guinea pig, you asshole." He flipped me off before dipping his brush into the white canister and slashing it across the brown blob.

"Whatever you say." I mumbled to myself as I clipped my own paper onto the easel. So far I had a beginning outline for a cave. I sighed as I tapped my feet restlessly against the floor, trying to calm down so I could work.

After five minutes of this, Craig flipped me off and told me to stop being so damned annoying. I couldn't help it though and, even though I managed to keep myself from tapping my foot on the ground, I started shifting relentlessly in my seat and drumming my free hand on my easel. I could barely even keep my brush steady enough to paint correctly and messed up every few seconds, making it look sloppy.

I could tell Craig was getting pretty pissed at me, but there was nothing I could do. My stomach was going crazy, squeezing and twisting painfully, and I felt like a five year old with ADD, unable to concentrate on anything long enough to comprehend it. I knew I'd finally lost it when I reached down to dip my brush into the green paint and my hand twitched violently, making me overturn it all over the table. Craig jumped up quick enough so that none of it got on him, but I could tell he was even more upset.

"That's it, Marsh!" He growled. "You're going to the nurse and going home, right now." He declared, jostling me forcefully from the room.

"Okay, okay!" I put up my hands in defeat and he stopped pushing just outside the door.

"Dude," he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he calmed down a bit. "I don't know what's up with you, but I think you just need to take the rest of the day off. Go to the nurse."

I looked down at the floor, tapping my foot again. "Yeah, alright." I replied, looking him in the eyes. He smiled slightly and clapped me on the back.

"See you tomorrow, man." He gave me a small push down the hall.

"Yeah, see ya." I called back, though some strange voice in my head was telling me that I wouldn't.

The walk to the nurse's office didn't take me long. I had been sent there dozens of times last year after my fights with Kyle, so I knew all the quickest routes. When I knocked softly on her door and she opened it, her usually cheery face drooped into a frown.

"What can I do for _you_, Mr. Marsh?" She spoke condescendingly as she stepped aside to let me walk in. "Get into another fight today? I suppose you're about overdue."

I sighed and stood awkwardly next to her desk as she went to sit behind it.

"No, not exactly." I looked to the ceiling as I wrung my hands.

"Well then, what seems to be the matter?" She questioned, looking intrigued that I hadn't been sent down for fighting.

"Um, well I'm not really sure," I let my eyes wander around the small room. There were six cots shoved into one corner, all covered by thin curtains, a bathroom against one wall and her desk, which held all of her 'medical supplies.' "I just feel kind of anxious." I continued, my eyes finally meeting hers.

She glared suspiciously at me for a moment, her heavily shadowed eyes narrowing before pointing to an open cot and demanding that I sit on it. I did, fidgeting uncomfortably with the hem of my shirt as she rummaged around in one of her drawers. Three of the curtains around the beds were closed, letting me know that there were at least three other students in the room. Something about that creeped me out, knowing that they were lying just behind there, listening to everything I said. Or maybe they were just sleeping.

She turned around then, and started clomping her way towards me, holding an ear thermometer. I cowered away from her on my cot as she advanced, looking upon the thing with disgust. I hated sticking things in my ear. One time, a few years ago, Kyle held me down and gave me a wet willie. I guess I just never got over that sickening sensation.

"Oh, for goodness sakes, Mr. Marsh," She complained, trying to hold my head still so she could jam it in my ear. "It's only a thermometer."

I sighed and sat up again, wringing my hands together as she stuck the cool device inside my ear. I held my breath the whole time as she tapped her heels impatiently on the ground, waiting for the reading. From this close up I could define every wrinkle in her leathery face and I unconsciously shivered, feeling nauseous.

The thermometer emitted three soft beeps and she took it out, squinting through her large frames to read the small display screen.

"Well, you definitely don't have a temperature." She placed a hand on her hip and seemed to be waiting for an explanation.

"Um, yeah. I don't really feel sick, just… anxious." I explained, fidgeting on the edge of the lumpy cot. "Like I can't concentrate in class and my stomach feels strange. I knocked over a jar of paint in art today and I kept on spilling my friend's milk during lunch."

"Alright," She leaned down to my face, examining the bags under my eyes. "Do you think you'd feel better if you went home and rested for the remainder of the day? You're probably just stressed."

"Yeah," I nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay," she clicked her heels over to her desk and picked up her phone. "I'll let the office know," she called to me, phone pressed between her ear and shoulder as she began jotting something down on her clipboard. "You go ahead and go."

"Thanks." I hopped off of the cot and gave her a short wave, though I don't think she saw.

I stopped by my locker to get out my coat and homework before heading out to the student lot. My car was parked near the back, since I had been pretty late for school that day, which was pretty inconvenient because it was raining. And I'm sure I've already explained how much I dislike the rain. I splashed through muddy puddles and held my back pack over my head, trying to keep from getting completely drenched. It didn't work. My whole body was pretty much soaked to the core by the time I made it to my car.

My beat up, red Honda, with a dent in the back bumper from the time I let Kyle drive it before he got his license, let out a click as I unlocked the doors. I slid into the driver's seat, desperate to escape the storm, and slipped the keys into the ignition. The engine roared to life like a sleeping giant. The gentle vibrations and the hum of the heater relaxed me as I rested my head against my steering wheel.

"What is wrong with me?" I asked the empty air as I took in a shuddering breathe. I raised my head slowly and put my car in reverse.

The bad thing about South Park High School was that it wasn't really in South Park. The school board thought it would attract more people to the school if they built it closer to a more populated town, so all of us kids from South Park had to actually take the highway to get there. Which ended up being for nothing since only about four kids from other towns decided to attend. This was why I was now driving along a slippery highway, in the pouring rain. My windshield wipers could barely keep up with the storm, so I had to squint and hunch over to try and get a glimpse of even the smallest thing in front of me. And the whole time I couldn't stop twitching.

I tapped nervously on my steering wheel the entire time, my eyes flickering insistently between all three of my mirrors. There was no one on the roads of course; it was one o' clock on a week day. I tried to make myself calm down by focusing on the sound of the rain hitting the roof of my car. It actually worked really well and I left my eyes to fix straight ahead of me as my mind began to wander, leaving everything around me a little fuzzy. I saw everything in colors, not shapes, as I continued driving, my speed accelerating considerably. Varying shades of grey smudged across the scenery around my peripheral vision as a long streak of it raced under my car.

Now, this obviously isn't the best tactic to practice while driving, but I was so relieved that I could actually feel such tranquility that I was reluctant to let it go. Besides, nobody was on the road and I was fairly sure that I was keeping in my own lane.

I'm pretty sure I didn't even see it coming. I know that sounds clichéd, but I really didn't. My mind was far, far away in a completely alternate universe as the rain outside blurred my windshield and cocooned me inside my metal scrap heap. I was oblivious to the world outside of my own mind, and, I remember thinking (I think it was just before the air bags deployed) that I didn't care. Some portion of my brain knew that it was suppose to happen, and everything was going to be okay. That I should just go with it

I don't remember feeling anything. The only thing I registered was a large mass of nebulous blue barreling straight for my car, shining out brighter than the masses grey. I remember hearing, but I don't remember feeling. Maybe it's one of your body's many illusory methods, making you see and hear things in a crystal clear slow motion, while your body is simply brought along for a virtual ride.

The front end of my car was completely smashed in, that I was positive of because I remember watching the metal fold and bend under the impact like an accordion. The windshield was completely smashed, too. Into a billion tiny pieces- all of them trying to find their mark in my flesh. The air bags went off then, smacking me in the chest like a fucking hundred pound weight. It was soft, though. Almost like cotton. Tires squealed like a screaming baby, bouncing through my mind a million times like a ping pong ball. The car was shifting all around me, rocking violently back and forth; I think it might have even flipped completely over before it finally came to a stop. My body was propped up by nothing more than the air bag and I let my self slump onto it, trying to ignore the deep shade of crimson it was stained in.

I heard someone outside yell, "Fucking shit!" My eyes sagged dangerously and I felt like if I closed them I'd never open them again. Everything was pressing so deeply on me though, and it felt like my head was about to cave it. I felt that horrible compression again, only this time it was magnified to a terrifying degree. The last thing I remember before I finally gave in was the smell of blood flooding all my senses, and how much it reminded me of Kyle.

* * *

Liked it? Didn't like it? Let me know and it'll really help me out as I go on. Thanks!


	4. Initiation

**A/N:** Okay, sorry it took me a while to get this chapter out! And sorry if it sounds a little rushed, I worked hard on it and this is just what came out.

Anyway, this is where the real plot takes off, so I guess you'll have to tell me if you like where it's going or not^^

Oh, and I _really _appreciate everyone's reviews!! Thank you so much and keep it coming!

* * *

I woke up feeling completely fine. I figured they must have pumped me full of morphine at the hospital and I was currently enjoying a pain-free delusion. That was, until I opened my eyes and realized I was no where near a hospital.

I was lying on a hard, uncomfortable floor, my vision a cloudy haze of red as I blinked my eyes, trying to focus. There was a dull roaring issuing from some unknown corner of the room and, as I sat up and rubbed my head, I noticed a lamp standing off to the side with a red bulb screwed into it. I might have been under the suggestion of the color of the room, but it felt stiflingly hot. A thin layer of sweat was already building over my body and I was feeling the acute paranoia of claustrophobia kicking in.

"The fuck?" I groaned as I looked around more, realizing that the room very much resembled a waiting area in a dentist's or doctor's office. There was a small table shoved against the left wall of the room with a large, plush couch sitting next to it and a couple of padded chairs against the opposite wall.

I got up slowly, expecting to feel some sort of pain, but nothing but a dull throbbing sensation pulsed throughout my body. I stumbled unsteadily over to the couch and flopped down, my legs feeling like the wobbly jell-o my mom used to make when I was a kid.

I rested my head gratefully against the back of the couch and took a deep breathe, feeling slightly nauseous. My head rolled onto my left shoulder and I glanced down at the end table. There were a few magazines fanned out on it and I picked up the top one, squinting down at it in disbelief. There, on the front cover, looking proper as ever and very much alive- was Princess Diana. I scanned the cover for the issue date, only to find that it was stamped with a resolute _March 2010_. I noticed the title of the magazine then, and my queasy stomach nearly emptied its contents. '_This Week in Hell_.'

I threw the magazine down and jumped up from the couch. I noticed a door that blended obscenely well with the red lighting, making it nearly invisible, and I ran up to it. I desperately grabbed a hold of the knob, praying that it wasn't locked. The knob turned but no matter how much pressure I put on it, it wouldn't budge. I gave way to my most primal instincts then and took to pounding and kicking violently at it until I almost broke it clean off the hinges. I probably would have, if it wouldn't have swung open to reveal a cheerful-looking, red skinned man with twisting horns jutting out of his forehead.

"Is there a problem, sir?" He asked in a nasally voice that reminded me painfully of Craig.

"Yes!" I nearly yelled, trying to push past him. "Where the hell am I?!"

This guy had to have been some sort of body builder because, though he was at least two feet shorter than me, he managed to hold me in the room with only one hand pushing against my chest.

"Well, you kind of answered that yourself, didn't you?" He smiled widely at his joke and let his hand drop as I stopped struggling.

"This isn't funny." I declared, glaring angrily at him. "I am _not _dead, and I am _not _in Hell." I stuck my head out into the hall and glanced around nervously, feeling surreal yet oddly life-like at the same time. "I must have gone into a coma. Or maybe I'm just sleeping off all the morphine they gave me at the hospital."

"Yeah, sure kid," he padded me consolingly on my shoulder- the highest part of me he could reach. "Anyway, as long as I'm here I might as well take you to check in and introduce you to your room mates." He gestured for me to follow him as he began walking down the long, narrow hallway.

I paused, watching him leave, and I almost didn't go. Almost. I figured that I'd rather not end up sitting in that awful waiting room anymore though, and decided I'd better follow.

"What do you mean by 'room mates'?" I asked as I caught up behind him, looming high above his small body and sneering distastefully at the floral wallpaper that donned the walls.

"Well," he started, and I got the sudden feeling I was in for an unnecessarily detailed explanation. "As you might imagine, it can get rather crowded down here," he shot me a cautious glance. "In Hell. Assigning people room mates helps to give us more living space for newcomers. It also makes it easier for us to keep our records organized if we have several people living together in one place."

"Are a lot of people sent- uh, down here?" I questioned, figuring I might as well indulge in my strange hallucination for the moment.

"Any person who isn't Mormon." He replied, shrugging.

"Mormon." I stated, wondering where my imagination had dug that up from. "Really?"

"Sure thing." He nodded seriously and I let the matter drop.

We continued along the stuffy hallway for a good five minutes, and the detail of this certain illusion was starting to concern me. Everything felt so real. The sweat slipping down my neck, the oppressive feeling of the walls so close that I could reach out and touch each side at the same time. Even the details on the strange man guiding me. He was so three dimensional and utterly _real _that I could hardly deny the fact any longer.

I was obviously in Hell.

"Shit, man." I whispered to myself, running a shaking hand through my sweat dampened hair.

The short man's head turned inquisitively to the side until he caught a glimpse of my face.

"It's finally hit you, then?" He questioned, an almost sad ring to his voice.

"Fuck. I guess." I stated shortly, wanting nothing more than to let my trembling legs drop to the floor, but something- probably pure adrenaline- kept me mobile.

He huffed out a sigh and came to a sudden stop in front of a large, oak door with grotesque carvings of naked, tortured people whittled crudely into it.

"Well, here we are." He shot me another backward glance before pushing the door open and motioning for me to follow him inside.

This room was bathed in the same red light as the waiting room I had woken up in, but to a much more intense degree. This light was so thick that you couldn't make out any discernable shapes among it- only red, red, red. Thick and impenetrable.

The red skinned man seemed to know where he was going though, so I stuck as close as possible behind him without stepping on his heels. He led me straight through the room until I banged my knees against something hard and he came to a stop.

"How are you doing, Tom?" He greeted cheerfully at a particularly dense haze of red in front of us. I squinted my eyes and was able to determine a dark, hulking figure through the fog. It shifted slightly upon hearing the man's voice before answering in a profound, rasping accent.

"Same as I was five minutes ago, Verg."

"Right." The man clapped me enthusiastically on the back. "I've got another check in for ya."

"Name?" The voice rasped, and I heard the click of a pen.

"What's your name, son." Verg asked out of the side of his mouth.

"Uh, Marsh. Stan Marsh." I stammered and shifted nervously on the spot. It felt like it was getting harder to breathe the longer we were in this room. Like the thick smoke was trying to choke me.

"Room 23409320932304949. Kraine Boulevard. Wait there until the other three arrive."

"Got it." Verg responded jovially, giving a thumbs up to the smoke. He then steered me back out of the room and into the stuffy, sickeningly decorated hallway.

"Well, you struck it lucky, kid!" Verg declared as he began walking down a hall to the right.

"What do you mean?" I followed behind, jogging slightly to keep up with his rushed pace.

"You got an apartment in the second circle! And Kraine Boulevard? Lovely neighborhood." We reached a strange fork in the hallway and he took a left. "You must have been a pretty decent guy on that big ball of water."

"Uh, yeah I guess so." I replied, but at the moment my thoughts were suddenly consumed with everything I had ever done wrong in my life. Things I had never sparred a second thought on were suddenly swimming dizzily into my consciousness, begging to be repented for. Things that barely even mattered anymore like the time I stole five dollars from my mom's purse when I was ten, or when I snuck that beer from my dad, or when I cheated on that science test because I had been too busy hanging out with Kyle to study. Any little thing or person I had wronged was suddenly plaguing my thoughts, making me feel dizzy and hot. Everything around me was pushed to the back burner as my mind whirled and spun out of control with so many scenarios that my head pounded heavily and my vision became blurry.

Verg's voice came from somewhere outside of me, and I felt a cold hand pressing down on my shoulder. My back hit something hard and I slid down it, onto the ground. My brain wouldn't function normally with the rest of my body, so my head simply lolled to one side while I squeezed my eyes shut in pain and hoped this would pass, or I might lose my mind.

Slowly, the wild chaos in my brain cooled to a sluggishly churning turmoil and I could open my eyes again. My back was resting against a wooden wall, in some kind of entry way to a building. All kinds of strange looking people were pouring in and out, but none of them spared me a second glance.

"What just happened to me?" I moaned, picking my head up carefully, surprised that it didn't still ache.

Verg focused on some point in the distance as he answered. "Repentance. It happens to everyone. Once you start to think about things you feel regret about, it's like a ravenous lion that can't stop until it's full. It clears out your mind, so you can live forever without any more regret or worry."

"If this happens to everyone, why didn't you at least give me a heads up?" I questioned, glaring at him as I sat up a little straighter and rubbed my head.

"We've found that it's easier if you're not expecting it. Makes it go faster, and it's more natural- if we mention it first, then it's a completely different trigger and changes the final outcome." He stood up then, like he was suddenly finished with this certain topic, and held out his hand to help me up.

"Right." I rolled my eyes and followed him outside, feeling lighter than I had in my entire life.

As we walked outside, the only thing I could find myself thinking about was how hot it was in Hell. The minute the doors slid open and we stepped out, it felt like we had shoved our way right inside the Devil's asshole. Everything felt heavier and more intense with the strange red stained skies beating down on everything. It wasn't even a sky, I don't think. More like a top to hold everything in.

"Do you see those stairs, there?" Verg interrupted my thoughts with a pointing finger as he side-stepped a kid on a tricycle.

I focused off into the distance and immediately noticed a large set of stone steps leading upwards, seemingly into nothing. "Yeah, I see them."

"They lead to the second circle." He explained.

"So we're in the third right now?" I asked, looking around at the masses of people moving sluggishly around us. There was a mother and her two children, who were running around her legs as she crossed the street, not bothering to yield for any oncoming cars. An old lady was juggling five bags of groceries as her husband shuffled along aimlessly beside her, and I realized that the vast majority of the rest of the people were men.

A grave look took over his features as he shook his head almost imperceptibly. "No," he whispered. "Right now we're in the seventh."

"The seventh?" I repeated loudly, slightly shocked.

Verg gave me a silencing look and my eyes darted to the people milling along the streets again. Suddenly they looked a lot more malicious. I caught the mother narrow her eyes at her smallest child and something not quite normal glinted just behind them. I noticed the old man stick out his shuffling feet at odd angles, trying to trip his wife. And all those men, they carried with them that distinct air of someone who most definitely mentally ill.

I quickened my pace without even realizing I had, but Verg caught on, nearly jogging to keep ahead of me and lead me towards the staircase. I felt someone brush against my arm, and I swore I heard someone breathing behind me, but I ignored it and kept following Verg, my body tensing nervously with every step.

We made our way out of the crowded central city and into a more suburban area, where little children littered the streets, playing strange games that I didn't want to know the name of- in an oddly rhythmical fashion. All of the houses here were exactly identical, towering along in lengthy parallel lines that seemed to run on for miles.

I tried to ignore the odd, devilish glances the children would throw at us after every rhythmical beat of their playing, but their eyes glinted in such a way against the red sky that it sent convulsions down my spine.

I was intensely relieved when we broke free from the large cluster of houses and came to a very sparsely populated area- almost like a portion of farming land. I could see the stairs clearly now- they couldn't be more than three miles away.

The scenery here was dull and void and I found myself growing bored without having anything to feel afraid of. I let my mind wander and I suddenly realized that I didn't feel tired at all. We had been walking for nearly four hours, but I felt like we had just started out.

"Hey Verg." I started, my voice cracking slightly from lack of use. He raised his head towards me, a questioning look on his face. "How come I don't feel tired?"

"Because you're dead." He answered simply, looking at me like I was more than a little dim-witted. "The only things you can really feel from now own are your emotions. Those are the only things that stick with you through death. Anger, jealousy, sadness- you can never escape that. Pain is just an illusion; a body and mind trigger. Emotions originate from your soul and, even though yours is damned, it's still there. Your body on the other hand, technically isn't here. Not the one you used on Earth anyways."

"You mean, this isn't my body?" I questioned, looking down at my hands. There did seem to be something different about them, but I couldn't place it.

"Yes and no." Verg pulled a thoughtful look before continuing. "Your Earth body wouldn't be able to survive here, especially since it's essentially dead. It would… rot. So your soul moves into its predestined host body here, which is really just your body but built to withstand the temperature and supernatural atmosphere here."

"Well, do I look any different?" I asked, wishing I had a mirror.

Verg shrugged. "How should I know?"

I was silent for a moment, vaguely surprised that he didn't know something as simple as appearances. "I don't know. You seem to know everything else."

"I only know everything that goes on here. I have no knowledge about anyone's past lives."

"What are you, exactly?" I inquired, realizing that I had been wondering this since I first saw him.

"A Demon." He replied simply.

I thought about this for a second, realizing that the answer didn't exactly surprise me, but I did wonder why he acted so much like a normal person. I had never really thought about how a Demon would act, but if I had I wouldn't have pictured something like Verg. "Have you always been a demon? Or were you a person once?"

"I was a person once, yes." He affirmed, nodding slowly. "A long time ago."

"How did you become a demon, then? Does everyone once they've been here long enough?" I stared at the side of his face as he sighed and looked up, almost in desperation.

"No, everyone here is not qualified to become a Demon. Only the most horrifying and inhuman are recruited," he gave me a cautious look before continuing. "I used to live in the seventh circle."

"What did you do to get into here?" I asked, hoping I wasn't being too prying.

Verg glanced sideways at me, almost like he was getting ready to gauge my reaction. "I murdered my wife and children."

I nodded and looked down at the ground. "So how did you become a Demon?"

Verg faltered, nearly tripping over his own feet, but he kept talking. "I lived in the northern side of the seventh circle when I first came here- about as far into Hell you can go without falling into Satan's bedroom." He scratched his head and looked up, like he was trying to remember the specifics. "After about two hundred years I was sent into training where they change your entire appearance to look like, well, me. I'm technically not a Demon anymore- I'm retired. But once they imprint you with the red skin and horns, you can't just get rid of them." He tugged absent mindedly at his left horn as he finished, seeming to come out of a semi nostalgic episode.

"What do Demons do, then?" My brows furrowed in interest as Verg gave me a hesitant look.

"None of that freaked you out enough already?" He asked, looking slightly concerned.

I shook my head. "Nah, not so much."

Verg smiled slightly to himself before continuing. "Well, we're basically Satan's army. At least, that's our official title, but since there hasn't been any great war between God and him for eons, we pretty much dealt out repentances in purgatory."

"What do you mean you 'dealt out repentances?'" I wiped some sweat off my face as our feet slapped an imperfect rhythm against the dry, cracked ground.

"Well, it's really only for those people that go to the fifth circle and on, but do you remember how your mind erased all of your guilt when we were coming out of the central building?"

"Yeah, of course." I nodded.

"Well, that's what we did, but in a more manual, physical way. We have to put everyone who goes to the fifth, sixth or seventh circle through a series of cleansing labors that make up for all their sins. Kind of like torture."

"Torture? My mind getting wiped didn't feel like torture." I replied.

"Yeah, well there are people out there who deserve it a lot more than you. And those are the people who get it." Verg explained, eyes narrowing as he focused his eyes ahead of himself again.

"Well, look at that!" He exclaimed, motioning at the space in front of him. I glanced up to see that we had finally made it to the staircase.

"That didn't feel like a very long time." I observed as I followed Verg up the tightly spiraling stairs.

"You'll come to realize that time is pretty irrelevant here." Verg commented before breaking out into a brisk jog.

I glanced up and my heart nearly sank at how long it went on for. I couldn't even see the top from where I was, but I jogged steadily after Verg, sweating more as we made our way around each little spiral, up to the top.

Making my way up the stairs turned out being less time consuming than I had expected. My mind wandered off after ten minutes and when I came back to reality I could already see Verg waiting for me at the landing.

"Took you long enough, kid." Verg clapped me on the back as I jogged up the last few steps and came to a gradual stop.

I looked around the new scenery cautiously, noticing that the sky wasn't quite as red here- it had more of a pinkish hue- and it wasn't a barren waste land like the seventh circle. There was actually plenty of plant life, and the people didn't look near as intimidating. I closed my eyes and took a deep breathe, the cooler atmosphere feeling amazing against my sweat-drenched body.

"It's nicer up here, huh?" Verg commented, noticing the way I was relaxing for the first time since I'd gotten here.

"Yeah, much." I replied, nodding in agreement.

"You see that big building over there?" Verg asked, pointing to a large complex about a mile away.

"Yeah."

"That's your new home, kid." He stated and glanced up at me for a reaction.

I nodded slowly and motioned for him to lead the way.

We made our way through a large market-place full of adults and children, all looking just about the same as the people on Earth. The buildings here were larger and covered a much denser population than in the seventh circle, and I even noticed a few parks crawling with children. No deserts or odd suburban complexes with identical houses. It might have just been the comparison between the second circle and the seventh, but this place didn't seem all that different from Earth at all, besides that boxed in feeling- that knowledge somewhere in your mind that if you walk far enough here, you'll find the edge of it. A wall that closes you in.

As we made our way further through the heart of the circle, I began to notice that it wasn't quite as cool here as I'd originally thought. Much cooler than the seventh circle, that was for sure, but still much hotter than any place on Earth.

"Is it always so hot here?" I questioned stupidly, wiping my face off on the collar of my shirt.

"It's Hell, kid. Of course it's always this hot. But, as I'm sure you've noticed, the temperatures vary depending on which circle you're in." I nodded and Verg continued on, like he'd just remembered something important. "Luckily for you, your apartment will be air conditioned, though!"

I gave him a questioning look and he smiled slightly.

"Just one of the perks of not being an insane serial killer on Earth." Verg explained as we came up to the entrance of the large building he had pointed out earlier.

"So, this is it." I mumbled to myself and waited for Verg to step in ahead of me. He pulled out some kind of key card and swiped it through a pad before entering a few numbers.

"You'll need this," he held up the small card. "To get into your room," Verg explained as the two stainless steel door in front of us swooshed open. "I'll explain it more once we get up there."

I stepped inside expecting to find a lobby or some kind of entrance level, but was instead met with about forty large, cylindrical tubes.

"Yours is number 23." He motioned towards one a little ways down with a black number 23 painted across the top.

"What exactly am I suppose to…?" I trailed off as Verg grinned a little and stepped forward.

"Just watch me." He opened the latch on the tube and ducked inside before securing it closed behind him. He closed his eyes and simply stood there for a second before a muffled whooshing sound came from the tube and he was sucked up through it.

My jaw dropped open in disbelief and I shook my head. "This is fucking crazy. I'm definitely dreaming." I whispered to myself as I followed Verg's lead and stepped into the tube. I closed my eyes tightly as I felt myself being pulled upward at an impossible speed. There was no gradual slow down either, when it stopped it just stopped, dumping me out in some kind of hallway.

"Your room's this way." Verg spoke up from my left and took off down the hallway. He stopped in front of the very last door, marked room 23409320932304949.

"Is there really that many rooms in this building?" I questioned, running a finger over the engraving with curiosity while Verg ran the key card through another pad connected to the door and punched in some more numbers.

"Yeah," he nodded as the console gave off a soft beeping noise. "This building was built as a kind of illusion. Though, nothing is exactly as it seems here, especially to someone as new as you."

He turned the shiny silver knob and pushed the door open. I followed behind him, stepping into a sort of entryway. What I immediately noticed was the change in temperature. A wave of cool air blew over me and I let out a grateful breathe as I stepped inside.

There was an enormous living room directly connected to the entry, already furnished with two L-shaped, ebony couches and three large chairs that looked like they could comfortably sit at least two people. The floor was made of a mahogany marble that somehow managed to give off an odd glow about the entire room. The already dark and foreboding atmosphere of the room was ignited by the fact that there wasn't a single window. A solitary, standing lamp was the only source of illumination, giving off a soft, warm light.

I looked around for Verg, who had wandered off during my inspection of the living room and came back to stand in front of me.

"The bedrooms are down that hall," he motioned to the right. "There are bathrooms attached to each, and the kitchen is right over there."

I took a step further into the room to see a wall with a small window cut out, giving a view of the kitchen around the corner.

"This," Verg started, handing me the key card he had used to get into the building. "Is what you use to get into the building and your apartment. Just slide it through the key pad and type in the code 9856."

I nodded and took the card from him, sliding it into my back pocket. I looked around the spacious room again, feeling slightly claustrophobic from the lack of windows.

"Isn't this a little-" I started, but was interrupted by the heavy creak of the front door opening.

"They're here already?" Verg mumbled to himself as he walked around me.

"Hey Serg." Verg greeted, smiling at the newcomers as I came to stand beside him.

My heart pounded thickly in my throat as I gaped at the two people standing just inside the doorway. The Demon, Serg, stepped further in and started talking to Verg as the second person's eyes came to rest on me. He starred back with at me with a kind of desperation, like he knew this was going to happen but had hoped with his very soul that it wouldn't. He looked tormented. Decimated. Yet more beautiful than anything I had ever seen.

"Kenny." I whispered and took an unconscious step forward, looking closely at his face. He looked so unbelievably perfect that, for a moment, I doubted it was actually him. His face looked like it was painted on by Michelangelo or some great, dead artist. Too beautiful to even be real. His cheek bones jutted out at just the perfect angle, giving the structure of his face that hollowed look desired by any model. His grey eyes shone out remarkably cold, like they were molded from actual steel, swimming in sparkling water. Deep, dark circles accentuated them strangely, making him look like the perfect picture of a tortured angel. He was the same, yet utterly, entirely different.

"Wu- what happened to you?" I stuttered, taking a small step closer to him.

He starred sadly at me for a moment before sighing and averting his eyes, like he couldn't bear to look at me. I couldn't stop looking at him.

"This is what happens when you die." He gestured to his body, and then to mine. "Look in the mirror." His head jerked to the side where a small, circular mirror hung to the right of a closet.

I shot him a confused look before turning sharply on my heel and inching closer to the mirror. It was strange to look at. Like my mind was trying to form the old, recognizable picture of my face, but the slightest differences had made it utterly impossible. I starred at myself for a long time, trying to figure out what exactly had changed, trying to make my mind comply with my new image.

My face was fucking glowing. Like I was bearing some kind of holy attribute. My skin was pale and perfect and my hair was a deep, soft onyx. I tugged on it slightly, feeling it feather unbelievably smoothly through my fingers. I glanced back at the mirror and a flash of something sparkling with no provocation of light caught my eye. I couldn't place it until I starred dead-on at my face. My eyes. They looked like they were carved out of pure sapphires and imbedded into my face. I looked away quickly, feeling bile churning thickly from my stomach.

"What is this?" I turned back to Kenny, my voice sounding hollow and shaky as I tried my hardest to ignore the coppery taste in my throat.

"I'd say it's the only torture people like us receive." He replied, voice sounding dull as he averted his eyes to some point just above my head. I could hear Verg and Serg mumbling quietly behind us, but I ignored them.

I closed my eyes and ran a hand through my hair, tugging on it slightly as it slipped through my fingers without a kink. "What about you?" I finally asked, unable to look directly at him.

Kenny was quiet for a long time, but I knew he understood what I meant. "Yes," he breathed, voice barely audible. "It's for good this time for me."

"What's going on?!" I snapped, grabbing him desperately by his shoulders. "Why can't you go back?"

"I don't understand how these things work anymore than you do." He let out a long breath and looked up at the ceiling, a small pool of water forming in his left eye, sparkling against a non-existent source of light.

"Well, anyways…" Verg spoke up suddenly, fracturing the tension that had built up between Kenny and me. "I had better get going. You know, I've got more people to check in and… stuff." I nodded stiffly at him as he made his way out the door. "I'll see ya around, kid." He spoke over his shoulder before disappearing into the hall. Serg followed closely after him, mumbling a similar excuse.

Kenny and I stood a few feet away from each other for a very long stretch of time, neither of us looking at the other or even speaking. After a while, I brought my eyes slowly up to look at his face, nearly gasping from the sheer, strange beauty of it.

I closed the short distance between us and placed an arm on his stiff shoulder. He recoiled a bit but didn't break away. Very slowly, very hesitantly, he began to move his eyes from the ground, to my feet, to my legs, to my stomach, up to my shoulders and lingered around the hollow of my neck before resting on my face. I could see the barely concealed astonishment at looking directly at me when his eyes finally met mine. A kind of fascinated disgust. And I could see my own identical reflection in the clear surface of his eyes.

I squeezed his arm a little, reassuring him that it was still me and I saw him try to smile. His face couldn't quite sustain the function though, and quickly shut down into mundane allure again.

I was jolted by a loud knock on the door. Kenny looked expectantly towards it and stepped further into the apartment.

"I think it's another of our room mates." He commented dryly and made a motion that suggested he wanted me to open it.

I nodded and took a jerky step forward.

My heart stopped at the unveiling of the people standing in the hallway. My breathing froze. My mind transcended to a whole new level of disbelief.

What the fuck was going on?

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Don't forget to review. It'll really help as I move along in the story.

Thanks!!


	5. Fated

**A/N: **I'm sorry, I'm sorry- I know this is super short, but I wanted to get another chapter out because I feel like it's been a while.

I actually really like this chapter, despite it's shortness, so I hope you guys do too :)

Sorry if Kyle sounds kind of weird here in the beginning, I'll explain it all later, though.

Enjoy! And don't forget to review, they help me write faster.

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Kyle stood in the doorway.

He smirked as my eyes were drawn to him, disgust and disbelief plastered all over my face. He had this incomprehensible air about him immediately before he stepped forward predatorily, causing me to back up and hit my legs against a table in the hallway. He didn't step around me, simply continued to stare at me with one of the more terrifying looks I've seen on another person. There was no surprise at seeing me, or any kind of natural, _human_ emotions.

"Kyle." I breathed out, trying to back as far away from him as possible without bending backwards over the table. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

A man even shorter than Verg stepped out from behind him, completely unnoticed until now.

"Kyle is your roommate." The man declared, his red skin growing darker as he entered the poorly lit apartment.

My eyes flashed to him and back to Kyle, who was still starring at me.

Taking me in with an almost hungry ferocity.

All I could really focus on were his eyes. They shone out unbelievably bright, dancing with some malevolent joy as they darted across my face.

When he finally looked me in the eyes, I looked away, taking in the rest of his face. His skin had paled even more than usual, but not in an unappealing way.

A shiver ran down my spine as he licked his lips and my eyes locked onto them. They were the most peculiar shade of red- like they had been stained with blood.

I noticed him smiling again and I quickly looked away, up to his hair that seemed to fall in more natural curls around his forehead and just above his ears.

He angled his head upward, bringing my attention to his neck. It was stretched out with the effort of looking up at me, all the muscles and pure, pale skin exposed and, for some reason, I felt myself pushing away from the table I had been cornered against. I unconsciously reached a shaky hand up and placed it against his collar bone. He hissed suddenly and jerked back, making me blink stupidly at him before stepping back even further, my eyes wide.

"Your hands are cold." He stated simply and that odd aura vanished. He was just Kyle again, now.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing here?" I took an angry step forward and Kyle looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. But that was okay, because it was kind of difficult to think with him looking at me, anyways.

"Obviously he's died. Just like you, Stan." Kenny spoke up from behind me and I turned to look at him.

"Yeah but how did he get _here,_ in the same apartment with us?" I clarified, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

"Do you guys all know each other?" Kyle's demon suddenly inquired, looking interested. We all nodded. "And did you live near each other?" We nodded again and he gave us a knowing smile.

"Well that explains it," he started. "When people die within a relatively close distance and time of one another, they are much more likely to be roomed together." There was a short pause where he let us all take in this information. "So, what happened? Domino suicides?"

Kyle looked down at his feet as Kenny shook his head. "No." He stated. "I drowned in Stark's Pond the night Stan died."

I gave Kenny a confused look. None of us had gone to Stark's Pond since we started Middle School. It was just one of those things from our childhood that we outgrew. Like Terrance and Phillip.

The demon nodded and turned to Kyle. "And what about yo-"

His sentence was cut short by a knock on the door. "Oh, this will be your last room mate!" The demon announced as we all waited for the door to open.

Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Eric fucking Cartman walked through that door next.

"Get the fuck out of the way ya piece of crap!" A whiny, irritated voice preceded the newcomers and my mouth dropped open at the sight of Cartman, pushing his way through the door.

He shot an aggravated glance over his shoulder before coming to a dead stop about five feet in front of me.

"The fuck?" He gazed confusedly at us for a moment before Kyle, seemingly recovered from his short state of shock, rushed to his side with a concerned look molded into his godly features.

"Eric!" He yelled, enveloping his friend in an actual hug.

"Kyle!" Cartman responded just as enthusiastically as he wrapped his arms around his small frame.

Kyle stepped back a few feet after a moment and simply starred at him. "Why does everyone look so different?" He mumbled to himself as he brought his hand up to Eric's face and ran it down his cheek.

"You look pretty different yourself." Eric observed, his eyes locked intensely on Kyle's face as he dropped his hand back to his side.

"Do I?" Kyle tilted his head to the side and smiled oddly to himself.

"Yup." Cartman responded shortly, breaking eye contact to look over Kyle's head at the rest of us. "You all look pretty fuckin' weird, actually."

I felt something in the unusually intense atmosphere crack, and a small smile worked its way onto my face. I had been so caught up in how we had all managed to find each other even in Hell, and how we were all eternally damned that I hadn't realized we were all actually together for the first time in over a year. I had never loved Cartman more for being such an unobservant asshole.

"Yeah, I suppose we do." Kenny spoke, smiling softly at his old friend. I knew that him and Cartman still hung out every once in a while, but not very often. Even though I never told Kenny directly, I knew he could tell that it bothered me, so he wouldn't do it a lot.

The Demon that had escorted Cartman to the apartment peeked his head inside and, after noticing all of us already in here, mumbled something about 'letting us tell him what to do' before slipping away.

"God, that guy was a major douche." Cartman commented, slamming the door behind him.

"So does this mean that we're all cool, then?" Kenny took advantage of the sudden lightness of the situation, glancing nervously, and a little hopefully, from Kyle to me. "Now that we're dead and stuck together for all of eternity, it would be kind of pointless to keep fighting, right?"

Neither of us spoke or looked at each other for a long time. I wasn't sure if I was ready to go straight into being best friends with Kyle again. I wasn't even sure if he was the same person I had known anymore- I mean, the Kyle I knew _never _got along so well with Eric Cartman. What if he had changed into a completely unrecognizable person? On the other hand, Kenny had a point. What would we gain from hating each other for the rest of eternity?

"I'm willing to try and be friends again." I stated softly, my eyes flashing to Kyle for his response.

He seemed shocked, but nodded his head. "Yeah, me too."

"Well, this is good!" Kenny nearly jumped into the air in elation, taking a complete one-eighty from his previous mood.

"Oh yeah," Cartman started, rolling his eyes in irritation. "Just what we all need- a reunion of the great faggot duo."

I gave Cartman a confused look. I didn't think that the two of us had parted on bad terms- we just kind of stopped talking once he started spending all of his time with Kyle. Judging by the glare situated on his face, though, he obviously felt differently.

"Eric!" Kyle hissed warningly and Cartman jerked his eyes away from me, giving Kyle an apologetic look.

_That was weird, _I thought to myself. The Eric Cartman I knew no less than a year ago would rather be raped by Mr. Garrison than take orders from Kyle. I looked at Kenny perplexedly, only to see his own expression mirroring mine.

"Well," Kenny started, trying to break the strange tension. "I think I'm gunna hit the sack. Dying takes a lot out of you. Stan?" I turned to see him looking around the room. "Which way are the bedrooms, again?"

I took the hint that he wanted to talk to me and pointed to the right. "Follow me, I'll show you." I offered and the two of us took off down the hallway, leaving Kyle and Cartman alone in the living room.

"That was… odd." Kenny started, glancing almost nervously over his shoulder and speaking in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, I agree. Eric Cartman doesn't take orders from anybody." I stated and stopped in front of the first bedroom door.

"I guess we can take this room." I pushed the door open slowly and the light inside flickered on automatically. If you could even call it a light. It felt like all it managed to do was make the room look even darker.

"Fine with me." Kenny shrugged, going to sit down on one of the two decently sized beds placed against opposite walls.

"Do you think there are actually clothes in there?" I pointed to the dresser next to the bed Kenny was on.

He smirked and motioned towards it. "Why don't you find out?"

I laughed and grabbed the old, brass handles on it before tugging it open. "Well, I'm definitely not surprised." I stated, smiling slightly as I pulled out a shirt to look at.

"Oh yeah?" Kenny suddenly reached for it and yanked it away from me. "How about now?" He pulled the collar down and showed me the tag.

I bent down to read it and, though it was unremarkable, I still wasn't surprised. The tag, instead of the usual material percentages or indications of where it was made, had only two words printed on it. Kenny McCormick.

I looked back up at Kenny, one eye brow raised. "I've just seen my best friend and two old friends walk into an apartment in Hell, which we apparently all live in together now, and_ this_ is supposed to shock me?"

Kenny laughed, and it was probably the most beautiful thing I had heard in days. Before we all ended up here, Kenny had been acting odd and I had barely been able to get more than two words out of him- let alone a genuine smile or laugh. So to hear my best friend laugh at that moment was literally one of the greatest liberations ever.

I lay down on his bed, starring blankly up at the dark red ceiling. Kenny followed me soon after and we stayed like that for a long time. It was hard for me to think, because it was still kind of incredible that I was dead. So I tried my hardest to just be blank, and lay there with Kenny, trying to pretend like this was my old bed in my old room and the soft voices of Kyle and Cartman were simply my parents, keeping quiet so as not to disturb us.

This image was ruined, though, by the sheer believability of it. The more I immersed myself into my own thoughts, the more life like they seemed to become- like some kind of hallucination. So I turned onto my side to stare at the side of Kenny's face. His eyes were wide open, but he seemed to be simply laying there. Maybe trying to pretend like it wasn't real, too.

"Hey, Kenny?" I called softly, not wanting to disturb him if he was thinking too deeply.

"Yeah?" Was his immediate reply.

I shifted a bit on his bed to prop my head up on my hand. "Why did you drown at Stark's Pond the night I died? I mean, we haven't been there in ages."

Kenny rolled onto his own side, so our faces were nearly a foot apart. He took a deep breathe and closed his eyes.

"That's exactly why I was there, Stan. It reminds me of my childhood. It reminds me of you." He cracked his eyes open to see my brows furrowed in confusion. He rolled his eyes. "That's what people do when they lose someone, Stan. They tend to get nostalgic and want to do things that remind them of that person."

I was quiet for several moments. "But that doesn't explain why you drowned in the lake." I stated bluntly.

Kenny rolled onto his back again and starred resolutely at the ceiling. "I wasn't trying to kill myself, if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't." I responded, my eyes fixated on the side of his face. The way it glowed, even in the darkness. The way it was tinged slightly red from the walls.

"I guess I just felt like I didn't have anything left to lose." He confessed, voice so quiet I almost didn't hear him. I scooted a little closer. "You're my best friend. My only friend. The only person that really cares about me." He closed his eyes again, and his breathing was heavy. Deep gulps of air that barely seemed to be released. "I remembered how we always used to go ice skating on the pond and I got the strangest impulse to walk out to the middle of the lake. I figure some part of me realized that it was dangerous, but I was too upset to listen to any reason. I wanted anything to be closer to you again, even if that meant walking onto an unstably frozen pond in the middle of the night." He took a deep gasp of breath, eyes closed tightly. "So, it wasn't technically on purpose," he rolled onto his side again and my breath caught at the closeness of his perfect face. "But I don't regret it."

"I don't either." I replied softly, starring straight into his perfectly steel-grey eyes.

"What? Me dieing, or everyone else?" He questioned, a small, sarcastic smirk on his face.

"Any of it, really." I rolled onto my back to stare at the ceiling again. "It think it was… meant to be. Kind of like fate."

Kenny didn't speak for a moment, but when he did his voice sounded strangled with anger or sadness, or some strong emotion that was almost unfathomable to me. "Just because it was fated, doesn't mean it's right."

I rolled onto my side again and placed my hand on Kenny's shoulder when I noticed the tears welling up in his eyes. "I never said it was right. Just some kind of fucked up fate. But at least we're all together, Kenny." I squeezed his shoulder a bit and tried to give him a reassuring smile. "Everything is going to be fine."

He took a deep breathe and looked away from me, down at the black comforter on his bed. He was quiet for a long time, just starring down, away from me. My hand stayed on his shoulder as a sort of offer of comfort. The best I could give him. I almost didn't notice when he finally closed his eyes and his body relaxed, heaving with deep, slow breaths as he drifted off to sleep.

I let my hand linger on his shoulder for a second, reluctant to let go of him, before I sat up a bit to look over at my own bed. I glanced back down at Kenny and decided that I didn't really want to sleep all the way across the room right then. I let myself slide back down onto his bed and laid my head onto his pillow, letting out a deep sigh that seemed to expel and inhale a pure kind of hopelessness as I closed my eyes.

Everything _would_ be okay, right?

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